Power Trip
by Holding-the-tune
Summary: Rogue and Remy get caught up in an experiment, and have to deal with the consequences. (Romy)
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: "****One of the things Ford Prefect had always found hardest to understand about humans was their habit of continuously stating and repeating the very very obvious, as in _It's a nice day_, or _You're very tall,_ or _Oh dear you seem to have fallen down a thirty-foot well, are you all right?" - _Hitchhiker's Guide**

**Just to be in running with the habits of humans – No. I do not own X-Men. Nor have I ever. And for the record – I'm not very tall**. 

**A/N – Merci to my bus driving beta reader Shroom. You rock, dude. Everyone else – reviews are much appreciated. *poke* Anything in italics is a flashback. Except the title. (I know, I know – 'Duh.')**

_Chapter 1: Sell Out  _

She'd flown off the rails again. Not sure the others deserved her temper, but then, not sure she cared any more. 

Rogue skulked down the sidewalk, head bopping to the music blasting from her headphones, and gloved hands thrust in her pockets. An old man passing looked briefly in her direction, with a raised eyebrow. She resisted barely the urge to flip him a finger, and walked on. It wasn't fair to take her frustration out on one innocent guy who happened not to like rock music.

But then, nothing was fair. Scott being with Jean wasn't fair. Her unrequited crush on Scott wasn't fair. Everyone dating someone else wasn't fair. Rogue's mutation most of all wasn't fair. 

The reasons she'd stormed out of the mansion came rushing back, in a whirlwind of angry emotions and tears that threatened to cascade down her face. 

They made such a cute couple. Everyone said so. No-one could understand what had taken Scott and Jean so long to hook up. And no-one minded rubbing Rogue's nose in it, even if it wasn't on purpose. 

She'd walked into the rec room. They'd been sitting on the sofa, kissing. Scott had seen her and stopped, apologising with a sheepish smile. She'd waved a hand and told him it was okay, it was cool. She'd left them to it, and gone in search of some peace and quiet, where she didn't have to be reminded of everything. Outside, she'd decided. Kurt waved happily to her and bamfed over from where he had been sitting on the steps, eager to tell her all about his date with Amanda. Rogue had listened with half-closed ears and a synthetic smile, before excusing herself and leaving her excitable blue stepbrother to his reverie. Upstairs. Rahne and Roberto flirting on the landing. Exasperated, she'd ended up in her room. Kitty was sitting on her bed. She'd asked what was going on. Rogue had thoughtlessly mentioned walking in on Scott and Jean. Bad move. Kitty had launched into a one-sided conversation about how cute they were.

Rogue wondered with a vague sense of guilt how long it had taken Kitty to realise she had left the room while she was talking about the mansion's favourite couple. The feeling was quickly overwhelmed by everything else she had on her mind. She could apologise later. If Kitty had in fact noticed at all. Maybe she was still talking. The thought brought a slight quirked smile to Rogue's face briefly, which brought the guilt back as she caught sight of herself in a darkened shop window as she walked past. 

Alerted by the shops, she suddenly realised how far she had walked, dead to the world as she brooded in her bad mood. It was late; almost pitch dark in the spaces between the streetlights. She would be wanted back at the mansion soon. Despite his pretended indifference, Logan would be concerned if she didn't turn up, she knew. 

She turned into a back alley, a shortcut she knew would get her back faster. Any mind she would have paid to looking out for strangers in dark streets had gone out the proverbial window with the coming of her powers. If any guy tried to touch her, it wasn't her who was going to come out worse for wear. She almost wished there would be some man lurking in the alley for her to take out her frustration on. 

As a sharp pain hit her in the back of the head and she hit the concrete face-first, she vaguely heard Hank's voice in her head, with his supply of proverbs ever at hand, telling her to be careful what she wished for. 

~

"So do we have an accord?"

"Indeed, Essex. You may have the boy, in return for your promised assistance in gathering more mutants to rally for my cause."

The two men shook hands across the table, and any bystander would have been amused by this seeming gesture of goodwill from such characters. Amused that is, if they were not running scared. 

It was hard to say which was the more intimidating - Magneto sitting at one end of the table, his red metal helmet discarded beside his chair and his cape draped over the back; Sinister at the other end, red eyes glowing in a chalk white face; or the fact that both men were sitting at the same table. 

Piotr stood silently by the wall, awaiting any orders that may fall to him, and trying not to think about what was happening. He was not betraying a comrade. He was just standing by. He had nothing to with this. But no matter how many times he told himself these facts, the overwhelming feeling of guilt insisted otherwise, and the subdued anguish in the eyes of his friend didn't help either. Nor did the fact that the man was being held to the wall by straps of metal while their master bargained Remy's life away for the mutant cause. No, this whole ordeal didn't sit well with Piotr at all. 

_Essex and Lensherr acknowledged one another and swiftly moved into Magneto's quarters, to seemingly private important discussion. There were no pleasantries exchanged, no small talk. None was needed or expected. _

_Piotr read on the sofa. John bounced around by the door, blatantly eavesdropping on the conversation next door. The rest of the Acolytes had always maintained the man's insanity – his risking severe punishment to entertain his curiosity was simply more proof. And yet Piotr had an irresistible urge to join the Australian in listening to this particular discussion. He left his novel lying on the arm of the sofa, moving unconsciously to stand next to John. _

_Neither of them could make out much of what was being said. Words drifted through at random, leaving the eavesdroppers to contemplate their ominous implications. "Experiment…mutations…" came one end of the muted conversation. John leaned a little too hard on the door, and it creaked. The voices ceased. The door was wrenched open, and Magneto stood before them. _

_"Ah. I was going to have to call you both later anyway. You will stay now, since you're clearly interested in what's going on anyway." The look flashed at both John and Piotr clearly said they would not get away with this. He turned abruptly and returned to the table where Sinister was waiting, with lackeys flanking him at his shoulders. Piotr and John followed him silently into the room. John immediately took up a leaning stance in the corner, looking like a young boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Piotr closed the door, and stood by the wall, trying to avoid too much notice._

_The two powerhouses continued their discussion as if there had been no interruption, ignoring the two Acolytes with no visible effort. _

_"We have a history, you see, and he will make an excellent test subject." The glimmer in those eerie red eyes was one of pure anticipation and enjoyment, rather than any sort of neutral scientific interest, and it made Piotr feel uneasy. _

_"And I should have no qualms about giving him up?" _

_"If my machine works, you will no longer need to fight against humanity. All will be mutants. All I need are mutants to test its capabilities with. Consider it a promise. As long as I have him, mutants will be the dominant species. The **only species." **_

_Magneto nodded. A sinking feeling hit Piotr with the strength of an oncoming stampede. Then there was a noise in the hallway. The front door. The sinking feeling of seconds earlier suddenly became the strong urge to run, yell, fight, do anything that would stop what he knew with a sense of impending doom was about to happen. And yet, he remained by the wall, hoping that he had been the only one to hear the front door open. _

_No such luck. If Sinister had not guessed from the sound of the door, he could have read it on John's face. The Australian had not quite mastered the poker face that both Piotr and Remy could use to hide their emotions. His face was a picture of desperation and dread. _

_"Call him." __Essex__ instructed. _

_Piotr watched in dismayed silence as the door was pulled open by its metal handle. Magneto turned to him and with the flick of a hand, signalled him to fetch Remy. Anxiety hit Piotr like a ton of bricks. How could he possibly warn his friend of what was coming, when the door was open and Magneto and __Essex__ listened intently to what happening? The sinking feeling returned in force as he surmised with defeat that there was no way._

_He hadn't had to say anything. He wasn't sure that made him feel better or worse. He hadn't had to lie, but then, nor had he warned Remy of what was coming. Piotr had stepped reluctantly into the corridor and Remy had nearly walked into him. He saw Sinister for himself over Piotr's shoulder. Piotr had never known such a lack of control in the Cajun. His expression was one of mixed disbelief, dismay and apprehension, and he unconsciously stepped back against the wall, like a rabbit caught in headlights. _

Piotr shook his head, blocking out the memories of his team mate being captured by Magneto and pinned against the wall, while he had stood by in shock and helplessness. His attention snapped back to the two men seated in the middle of the room, as they stood.

"A pleasure to do business with you." Magneto told Essex, with an eloquent hand gesture.

"The pleasure was all mine." The devious look on the man's face, as he snapped his fingers at his idle lackeys, all the while still watching Magneto, was too much for Piotr to bear and he looked away. Sinister's henchmen grabbed Remy, as Magneto allowed the metal bars holding him to fall to the floor. Magneto and Sinister walked sedately into the corridor, and Essex indicated for his men to follow.

_I'm sorry. _Piotr mouthed to Remy as he was dragged out. A silent apology seemed a poor consolation, and didn't do anything to ease Piotr's conscience, which screamed at him and was only amplified by the now silent room. John remained in the corner, more subdued and sane-looking than he had ever been while in the Acolytes. The look in the Australian's eyes made Piotr unsure as to whether or not he liked the improvement. 


	2. Cellblock

**Disclaimer: I own many things currently scattered about my person, including an empty juice carton, a very old hair bobble and a sheet of bubble wrap. The X-Men are not among these things. I do not own them.**

**A/N: Merci to all you guys who reviewed the last chapter!! I'm glad you all liked it, or at least pretended to. Either way, I decided to write some more today (with the possible assistance of bunnies), so here we are. (Shroom, you still rock dude.) Just to let you guys know – this is set just after Blind Alley, not including events after that.**

_Chapter 2: Cellblock_

_What did I do last night? _Rogue thought, as she woke with a pounding headache. She couldn't remember getting drunk, but then with a headache this bad, she wouldn't have expected to remember much about anything from the night before.

Taking in her surroundings, she realised that for once the pain in her head was nothing to do with her habits. Along with the realisation came a measure of doubt – she had no idea where she was, or who had brought her here. Despite that, she couldn't help but feel slight relief – she hadn't got drunk last night and let anything slip about what she really thought of all the couples in the mansion. She knew she almost definitely wasn't safe here, but she'd have probably been even less safe in a house full of angry teen mutants out to get her.

Peering around, Rogue came to the conclusion that she was the only one in the dark room. There was a small unmade bed in the opposite from where she was sitting. Clearly, whoever brought her in had decided dropping her unconscious on the hard floor would suffice to make her comfortable, and left. 

There were no windows in the room, only one door at the other end, about three meters away from Rogue. She got up and pulled the handle, merely to occupy herself for a few minutes – she had known before she tried that the door would be locked. She slumped down on the small rock-hard bed. Resting her throbbing head on the musty pillow, she drifted into unconsciousness in the quiet dark of the cell.

Muffled voices woke Rogue from her trance-like state later on. Pressing the light on her watch she discovered it was just after ten in the morning, despite the gloom of her windowless prison. It might have helped her to gage how much time had passed, she thought briefly, if she'd happened to check what the time had been last time she was awake. But then, she'd had more important things to think about then. Like where the hell was she? Maybe the voices would give her a clue. They were getting louder, coming closer to…wherever Rogue was right now.

"The boss said put 'im in 'ere."

"You sure? With 'er?"

"S'what 'e said. Somethin' 'bout keepin' experiments t'gether. Can't have 'em gettin' 'lost' now, can we?" 

"Ain' arguin' with that. Hurry up then. Got better things t'do than hang around here all day."

The coarse voices ceased their conversation and Rogue quickly closed her eyes. No sense in drawing attention to herself if they thought she was listening – after all, Irene had always said first impressions were important. Listening into conversations didn't make for a very good impression. But then, neither did locking someone up who-knows-where for no reason. Nonetheless, she decided it was best to play wallflower for now, and kept her eyes closed in some semblance of sleep. 

There was the sound of a lock opening, and the door apparently flying back on its hinges with a resounding thud. Rogue risked opening one eye slightly to see what was going on. With the amount of noise being made, remaining asleep would only look suspicious at any rate, and besides, it didn't look like the men were paying much attention to her. 

There were two men in the doorway. Her powers of deduction told her these were the bodies of the voices from a few minutes before. They definitely fitted the harsh tones anyway – big and burly looking, they looked little more than jumped up club bouncers. One dragged a limp form behind him – the guy she presumed they had been told to put in here. 

"Leave 'im and let's go!" The one nearest Rogue ordered in a rough whisper. The other one obliged, throwing their captive against the wall near Rogue. Both then swiftly left the room, slamming the door behind them so hard Rogue was surprised it was still attached to the doorframe. A key turned in the lock and the sound of footsteps walking briskly away echoed down the corridor. 

Rogue opened her eyes fully and turned her attention on the one they had just put in here with her. He lay awkwardly against the wall, unmoved from where the flunky had dumped him. Rogue got up from the squeaky mattress and checked him for a pulse, putting one gloved hand to the man's neck. Relieved there was one, she sat back to look at her new cellmate. His eyes flickered open briefly, and Rogue had to stifle a gasp of recognition at the flash of red orbs in the dark. It was one of Magneto's Acolytes.    

Rogue leaned back against the metal frame of the bed, watching him through slitted eyes. The Acolyte's hair fell over his eyes and forehead, covering most of, from the looks of it, a recently-acquired angry-looking gash. Rogue peered at him through the dark, wondering what had happened. She could almost feel sorry for the guy, if it wasn't for the fact he'd nearly blown her hand off not so long ago, in a fight between the X-Men, the Brotherhood and the Acolytes. The memory brought yet more questions to join the buzzing in Rogue's head. If he was an Acolyte, what was he doing here?

Rogue firmly pushed away all the nagging thoughts in her head, with the promise that she would find out after she got the answers to a few more important issues, like what she herself was doing here, wherever 'here' was. Maybe he would know, if Rogue could get him to talk coherently. It probably wasn't a good thing for the guy to be unconscious anyway, she reasoned.

Rogue edged a little closer to the unconscious Acolyte and poked his arm. Getting no response, she decided this called for more violent methods. Ones she would probably enjoy at any other time. Reaching out, she cuffed him lightly upside the back of his head. Better. The red eyes Rogue had recognised blinked open, and he looked over at her, the glowing red full of confusion and pain, although she could have sworn there was a momentary flicker of amusement in there somewhere.

"..What the chere got t'go hittin' me for?"

**TBC**

**Sorry about the delayed update – internet's playing up. *pokes it* **


	3. Confrontational

**Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas is a broken record. I do not own the X-Men.**

**A/N:  Thanks to all you guys who've reviewed so far and I'm so sorry it took so long! The hitting him to get a response was from personal experience. I'm generally the one being whacked and/or poked. I should pay more attention. XD**

Rogue couldn't resist a slight smile at the response in what she assumed to be a Cajun accent. 

"Ya weren't payin' attention t'me so I hit you, that's what for."

"Oh."

"So do you know where we are?"

"Non." The acolyte shook his head, closing his eyes.

Rogue sank back against the bed frame with a poorly concealed sigh of frustration.

"But I do know who runs the place." He added, opening one glowing eye to look at her. 

Rogue sat forward again, eager to know the merest detail of who was keeping her here and why. She tried not to make it a habit to be locked in some forsaken cell with no knowledge of what was going on. "Well, spill it, whose fault is this?"

"Guy called Sinister. An' it ain' his fault. Fault sounds like an accident. This ain' no accident, not where he's concerned. Sinister's one sick _homme_." He closed his eyes again with a slight grimace. 

Rogue decided that now was not the time to debate what Sinister had in store for them. The two lackeys had called them experiments after all, and from what the Cajun had just said, he didn't have too high an opinion of the man's work either. No, Rogue definitely didn't want to think about it right now. _Time for a change of subject_, she thought. 

"So..I - wait, I'm gonna have to know what your name is first.." Rogue realised with a start. Calling him 'the Acolyte' was all well and good in her head, but out loud, it could only be classed as stupid.  

"My real name?", he asked, turning to glance at Rogue with questioning eyes.

"Yeah, your real name. What did they call you when you were a kid?" Rogue asked, rephrasing the question to try and get the answer she wanted. 

"Oh, what they called me as a kid…Ma tante used t'call me beautiful. Y'can call me that any time y'want, chere."

Rogue rolled her eyes and resisted, barely, the urge to hit him again. "Okay, how about swamp rat – can I call you that?"

"Rat? Remy ain' no rat!" 

"So you do have a name!" Rogue answered with a victorious smile. Her triumph was quickly forgotten though, as footsteps echoed down the corridor. She watched the door tentatively, listening to the voices which drifted to her ears. They got louder with each passing second, coming towards the cell. Rogue glanced over at Remy, to find he was also watching the doorway with a wary expression. 

A key turned in the lock, and the door creaked open, revealing one of the men who had came in earlier. His large form obstructed most of the light that would have come through the open door, leaving the cell still in relative darkness. A light was  abruptly switched on and the sudden harsh white glare caused Rogue's eyes to water a little. She blinked to clear her now slightly blurred vision, and saw Remy had his eyes firmly shut, keeping the light away. 

"Hey sweetheart.."

The leering tone made Rogue look up, to find the hulking man standing over her with a look of anticipation as he watched her. 

"I was getting bored and I thought you might be up for a lil' fun. So what do you say?" The man asked, putting a thick hand firmly on Rogue's shoulder, giving her no doubt that there was no real choice. 'No' wasn't an option with this guy. Well, it had never stopped her before.

"Get away from me, you slimeball!" Rogue hissed, pulling back from him with a glower. He stepped in closer to her as she did so, his face turning to the look of a small child who wants to grab the tail of a cat that keeps getting away.

"Lemme rephrase that for you, honey. You will be up for it, an' you say yes." He grunted, with a snarl. 

Rogue only stared back at him, not willing to give him the response he wanted. The man reached out to grab her. Rogue reached a hand out to his face hesitantly – she hadn't wanted it to come to this. A brutish psyche in her head wasn't something she was that enthusiastic about, but he had given her no other option. Touching her fingers lightly to his cheek, she pulled back slightly, steeling herself against the memories that would flood into her head, but none came.

"Your lil' tricks don't work here, sweetie." The man pointed out, noting Rogue's look of confusion. He grabbed her right arm and pulled it round in front of her face. "See this?" He pointed at a small metal band halfway up her arm. "Stops your lil' powers." 

Rogue stared at him, aghast, half dismayed and half shocked that she hadn't noticed the band before, although she'd had other things on her mind. She only had a second to examine it however, before she was reminded of the current situation, as the burly man put a hand tightly round her waist. 

"I said stay away from me!" Rogue yelled, putting her hands on his shoulders and giving him a shove with all her strength. Caught off-guard, clearly not expecting her to fight back again so soon, the man fell backwards. Using the spare moment, she returned her attention to the restraint on her arm, looking for a way to take it off. Focussed on trying to find a latch or any way of getting the band off, she didn't see notice him recover from her shove.

"You're gonna get it now, girl.." The guy hissed, pulling back a broad fist. Rogue looked up and swiftly closed her eyes, preparing for the unavoidable punch she was about to get. But for the second time that day, nothing happened. Or at least nothing she could feel - despite having heard _someone being punched, it hadn't been her. She lifted her head and opened her eyes, to find Remy standing between her and the lackey, swaying slightly but still standing._

"Ain' no way t'treat a lady, mon ami," Remy pointed out. "So why don' y'jus' back off?"

The man growled and punched him again, sending Remy sprawling back against the metal bedstead.

"Stupid thing isn't worth the hassle anyway..", the thug grunted, turning and storming out of the room, slamming the door as he went. The light went back out as quickly as it had come on, and the door was locked. 

Rogue was momentarily surprised by the sudden rush of concern she felt for Remy, lying limp on the bed. He was an Acolyte after all. She moved over next to him, wishing the glaring light was back so that she could see him. 

"What did you have to go do that for, swamp rat?"

**To be continued – sooner than last time I hope! I'd be much obliged if you'd review for me, and Shroom, you still rock for being my beta. XD **


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